Glasgow and Hot Dogs

This is not the same group as last week -
note David Leslie noting himself in the club's booklet.

News from the 'Café Metropole
Club'

Paris:- Thursday, 9. December 1999:- Welcome back
all 'virtual' and real charter club members and all members
who have not yet joined, with or without the mild formality
of clipping the club's membership card - not obligatory! -
out of Monday's 'News About the Club' in this week's
edition of Metropole.

As usual, Jan Shaw is the first to arrive for today's
meeting and as usual she says she doesn't know where Dana
Shaw is, and as usual he comes in five minutes later
without any notion he was 'lost' in Paris.

The weather is perfect for residents and visitors in
Paris. However, as has often happened in past weeks, the
low sun bats into the café La Corona - giving the
café's interior horrible bright-light spots - which
will ruin any photos I don't ruin myself.

It would help a lot if the Institut de France over on
the left bank would raise its coupole a couple of stories.
But it is not raining nor anywhere near snowing, so I
shouldn't complain.

Today's waiter - 'garçon' - is Monsieur Ferrat.
For him, Jan Shaw has an unusual request. She wants a big
cup of café with a little pot of hot
milk on the side. She thinks this is called a 'café
noisette,' but Monsieur Ferrat says it is 'un grand
café americain avec du lait apart.' Calling it
coffee-hazel-nuts instead sounds fine to me.

Tougher
to get than winning the lottery; Kathleen's new residence
permit. Is she happy?

While we are waiting for real club business to start
Dana Shaw tells me about the patisserie-chocolatier shop
two doors away on the same street as the café - with
the same address as the café by the way - which has
the best 'croque-monsieurs' in Paris.

This is a very big claim because there probably are
about 3500 other places that make them in the city. Dana
says the 'Cabor's' croque-monsieurs are heaped up with
mounds of grated cheese and - but he is interrupted.

Other regular club charter members arrive in their own
good sweet time, and we pass around the handshakes and
'bisous' with server-lady Linda Thalman and Kathleen
Bouvier.

Dana is interrupted 17 times and all I find out is that
the 'Cabor's' croque-monsieurs do not have mustard in
them.

For readers who are coming in late, a croque-monsieur is
a staple of every Paris visitors' diet. It consists of two
slices of buttered white bread with a piece of ham in
between and with grated cheese on top. These are grilled
until the cheese melts, and they would be good if they had
mustard in them.

This Corona-sized hot dog makes a
croque-monsieur look like chicken-feed.

Most of them are perfunctory, and they are often
over-grilled. The idea of them has great potential that is
seldom realized, so finding a place that makes the 'best in
Paris' is a major feat. Bravo Dana!

One interruption has come from the out-of-breath arrival
of Linda who has to tell us she found a parking space near
Invalides - a couple of kilometres - the metric system
again - away and across the Seine. Bravo Linda!

The other interruption comes from Kathleen, who needs to
show us her brand-shining-new, never-used, bona-fide French
'carte d'identité.' We all 'bravo' Kathleen for this
extraordinary and authentic demonstration of determination
and courage.

Dana manages to get in that he thinks maybe the 'Cabor'
uses not only more cheese, but better cheese. As everybody
knows, General De Gaulle once said France had too many
different kinds of cheese, and since he said it several
hundred more have been added to the national
reparatory.

Dana went to school in Paris for a couple of years a
long time ago and he remembers that there was no 'white,
sliced bread.' He says there was a bread he thinks was
called 'monk's bread' and it was sliceable. Most regular
bread was breakable, but baguettes were too thin to slice
for sandwiches. Science advances, and you now see baguettes
sliced too.

This brings us to the vital 'city of the week' portion
of the club's meeting. Only Linda, the server-lady, has yet
to give us one and thus we have Eugene, Oregon.

But before this can be voted on, David Leslie arrives
unexpectedly from Glasgow, Scotland, and it becomes the
'city of the week' by acclamation. Bravo Glasgow! Linda
takes this rather well, and we all agree that Eugene,
Oregon will get its chance sooner or later.

David, who is a medical practitioner in Glasgow and who
knows about things, says his wife is in Samaritaine
buying the place and orders a dark beer of some sort. Other
members decide to have 'hot' wine and Monsieur Ferrat
arranges for this.

To pep herself up, Linda orders a 'hot dog.' We
unanimously vote this delicacy as 'food of the week' -
because, next to croque-monsieurs and onion soup, hot dogs
are a staple of Paris' café fare, although you
seldom see people eating them.

Taken from under the
table, this photo of David Leslie is not over-lit, but
fuzzy.

When it comes we all see why not. Although sliced,
white-bread is not so rare in Paris anymore, hot dog buns
are not found on every street corner.

Every other café's, and La Corona's fallback too,
is to slice half a baguette lengthwise. This results in the
world's longest hot dog 'bun' so the only thing to do is
put a 30-centimetre - on the metric scale - Frankfurter in
it.

La Corona being La Corona, as well as host to the
Café Metropole Club, outdoes most other cafés
by putting two of these monster sausages in its hot dogs,
plus it adds a half-kilo of cheese. All of this is grilled,
just like a croque-monsieur.

This is too big to eat with ordinary-sized hands, so it
is served on a big plate with a stout knife and fork,
accompanied by napkins. Linda eats nearly the whole
thing.

While doing so, Dana explains the meaning of 's'more' -
which is so complicated I can't remember the details.
David, who seems to know quite a bit about medicine, tells
us about a Glasgow delicacy - deep-fried Mars bars. He adds
that Glasgow is the heart-attack capital of
Europe.

M. Ferrat is proud of Linda for nearly eating
the whole hot dog.

Then he looks at his watch, thinks about his credit
rating for two seconds, and races off to the Samaritaine
before his wife can buy the neat Christmas window displays
on its Rue de Rivoli side.

The abruptness of David's departure causes Linda to
wonder how many parking tickets she may have gotten and I
look and see the time is 17:15. Today's club meeting is
into overtime.

For members and readers who were concerned, the new
'club' pen from last week is still okay for light writing.
I really do miss the old one, because it was really good
for putting exclamation marks on the page.

Thanks for all the cards, letters and 'virtual'
membership applications you have been sending. These last
are not obligatory for joining the club.

All you need do is wave your hand - any one will do - in
some area over your head three times, and repeat 'I am a
virtual member of the Café Metropole Club in Paris.'
One time is enough.

Date, Time and Location of Next
Meeting

Next Thursday, 16. December, is a perfectly ordinary
Thursday - except for possible late-night shopping - in
France. The café La Corona meeting place will be as
open as usual, so the time for your club's meeting still is
from 15:00 to 17:00. If you like hot dogs, bring a big
appetite with you next week. The place is: